


Phantasma

by Onus_Probandi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Esser-neechan is mentioned, I JUST WANT MORE CONTENT WITH THESE TWO I'LL GIVE YOU MONEY, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, They fuck in a closet, ahahah get it its a metaphor, i actually did not have that in mind, lmao what is plot anymore, oh hey did I mention I put off an essay to write this practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onus_Probandi/pseuds/Onus_Probandi
Summary: Quatre and Six have a moment in a closet.





	Phantasma

 

 His fingers tangled in the thick braids at the back of his partner’s head, scrabbling for purchase and safety, tearing out the pins holding them against his skull, golden clips falling against the floor with a satisfying clatter. Lavender braids brushed his hands as they fell, their owner becoming more insistent and hungry with the movements of his mouth, teeth gnawing at his lips with a harsh growl. The younger erune pulled back from the burning heat between their bodies, inhaling the cool air of the Lumacie autumn flowing throughout the ship. He reached down between them, grasping Six’s wrist with a firm grip and grinning deviously at the tightly bound fingers. Sharp fangs grazed his fingers as Quatre pulled his gloves off with his mouth, relishing the taste of leather on his tongue and the promise of relief from the incessant dull pulse at the base of his spine.

Six keened a little desperately and largely pathetically, which makes Quatre want to both kiss his stupidly handsome face and knock him on his ass. “Hey, no, stop enjoying this. Don’t like it, pervert,” Quatre hissed, but the venom that usually leached out of his speech refused to come out, held back by his desire to have fingers shoved up his ass.

You couldn’t achieve things like that without a little sweetness.

Six gave a look that insisted that Quatre was a larger pervert because they were doing this pressed against the tight confines of a broom closet barely large enough for Quatre to stretch his fingers. All because Quatre had a thing for being shoved into small spaces, a kind of mild agoraphobia that emerged from a lack of claustrophobia or perhaps the result of an overactive psyche. Either way, if at all possible, he insisted on the pressure.

Maybe one day, Quatre would introduce him to BDSM.

His hand comes free of his protective glove, only to find themselves shoved into the warm confines of Quatre’s mouth, slathered with saliva. The older erune felt his breath catch in his throat, air exhaling through his tightly sealed lips, his cock brushing against the inside of his pants. The rough tongue lavished the twin digits wetly, twisting around as he moved back and forth, up and down with practiced skill from having larger things in his mouth.

Eggplant. He’s talking about eggplant.

He pulled back when the fingers were wet enough for his taste, kneeling down and undoing his pants, slipping them down his waist and to his ankles before kicking them off, wrapping his legs around Six’s waist, arms around his neck. Quatre inhaled, exhaled against Six’s neck, waiting for the pressure as a dry hand pulled his underwear to the side. He can feel an erection that isn’t his rubbing against his dick as it twitched and if Six did this well, maybe (more than likely) he would take care of it for him.

One finger rubbed a thin layer of his own spittle against his anus, muscles clenching up involuntarily before he was breached, a groan tearing its way out of his throat as the digit rubbed against his walls before going deeper and deeper into him. Quatre’s head fell back with a sharp hiss as Six added the second finger, stretching him out with a quick scissor of the twin digits, enjoying the gurgled moan and flick of his hips Quatre gave in response.

Eyes half-lidded, Quatre dug his nails into Six’s neck, desperate to keep his voice to a minimum in case his sister happened to walk by. His hips slid down, attempting to force more friction deeper inside him. “Ugh...agh, shit,” he grunted, sparing a moment’s glance at Six’s face, which had screwed up in concentration and arousal, a warm blush spreading across his cheeks. The look was a good one on him, making a sweet face that made him look even cuter than usual.

God, he’s such a fucking sappy _fuck_.

He forced Six’s head up and with practiced ease captured his lips as he fucked himself silly on the slender, dexterous fingers of his entirely-not-boyfriend, shoving his back against the far wall.

White spots clouded his vision, and Quatre hissed at his own low tolerance for pleasure, insistent to prove his own body wrong, encouraging Six to pick his pace up with a harsh bite against his throat. It’s an animalistic response to something that feels as if it isn’t even happening to him. He’s out of control, his body moving on its own, seeking out a spot not much farther than where Six’s fingers come to rest within him. It’s a frightening sensation, his head heavy and spine burning from the incessant twitch in his legs and asshole.

Quatre leaned his weight against Six’s torso, his head lolling until it touched the smooth skin of the older erune’s shoulder. “Just…” his voice squeaked until it broke into a shrill cry, “fucking _tease_!” His hands gripped Six’s collar tightly in his fists, burying his face deep into the warm collum of flesh, teeth grazing neck as he finally came with a harsh jolt of his hips.

A wet spot formed at the crotch of Six’s pants as he bit his lips harshly, the deep timbre of his satisfied voice hissing out from between his fangs. His knees buckled, taking them both down to the wood floor and inadvertently shoving his fingers deeper into Quatre’s ass.

“Ow! For fucks’ sake, what is _wrong_ with you?!” Quatre groaned. “Take them out, asshole.” He ordered, slapping his hands weakly across Six’s face.

“Sorry.” A wet slickening sound, the sensation of being empty and suddenly, he’s exhausted, leaning against the warm body in front of him.

A, hopefully the clean one, hand came to his hair, stroking his braids as his nails slowly undid the thick braids at strategic points on Quatre’s head. Normally, the savage spirit inside the young man would have torn off fingers with teeth, but, though he would never admit it, he didn’t mind Six touching his hair. He always had an air of awe when lavender hair came loose, stroking his already raging ego and calming the incessant need for validation.

Quatre inhaled slowly through his nose, the residual sweet smell of sex making his stomach flip, and went still, allowing Six to undo his hair and card his fingers through the residual waves.

**Author's Note:**

> This is more or less practice for me on writing same-sex smut scenes, so clink clink, take my gay porn and love for Six and Quatre being dirty. Coughcoughpleasemakemorecontentformetoconsumethankscoughcough.
> 
> Oh and feedback is always appreciated.


End file.
